


Kiss Me Like You Mean It

by TheCarrot



Series: 2020 Covid Smut Files [8]
Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Gin got involved at some point, I added an ot3 chapter because I am a weak person, I'm practicing writing kisses, M/M, Multi, Wine may make an appearance later, that's all this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: Santiago makes a low displeased sound, the same one he’s made on the battlefield when things don’t go his way and Will would have laughed had the shorter man not laced his hands together behind his head and dragged him down into a proper kiss.
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/William "Ironhead" Miller, Santiago "Pope" Garcia/William "Ironhead" Miller/Yovanna
Series: 2020 Covid Smut Files [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683301
Comments: 36
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mssrj_335](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/gifts).



> Found a kiss list on Tumblr... and that made me decide to try and get a hang of Santiago and Will together before I get completely carried away with the huge other fic I'm writing with them in it. Each Drabble is 500 words, so I hope anyone who reads this, enjoys?

**hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp**

Will smirks as he steps out onto the small balcony attached to his apartment. The night is cool around him and his eyes cut through the low light being cast through the door by the only lamp in his small living room. 

Santiago has a leg propped up on one of the wrought iron chairs that Benny had dragged up one afternoon and his fingers play with the empty beer can, tapping it against the railing in a rhythm Will thinks he knows but can’t place. He’s the picture of relaxed even as his dark eyes are cast out over the bright lights of the city below. 

“Noise bothering you?” Will asks, making his presence known before sliding into place next to the other man; Santiago warm where he’s pressed against him and Will shivers with the chill permeating his tank-top.

Dark brown eyes almost seem to sparkle in the darkness of the night and Santiago grins, dropping his beer can to the table so he can turn and bring his arms up and over Will’s shoulders. He grins a bit slyly when Will shivers again and Santiago can’t help pulling the taller man a bit closer, more than willing to give up the sight of the city for this. “No, the noise is fine.” 

Will raises an eyebrow down at him but doesn’t press the distant look that had been in Santiago’s eyes. Instead he lets his own arms come around the older mans waist to settle along the line of his leather belt.

It’s Santiago’s turn to shiver and he cast a baleful look up at the blond. “Benny take off okay?” He asks, toying with the back collar of the white tank-top Will is wearing. 

“Yeah, the little shit.” Will huffs, remembering the knowing look his little brother had given him as he followed Fish out the door. ‘Asshole.’ He thinks fondly, ducking his head to press a quick kiss to Santiago’s stubbled cheek.

Santiago makes a low displeased sound, the same one he’s made on the battlefield when things don’t go his way and Will would have laughed had the shorter man not laced his hands together behind his head and dragged him down into a proper kiss.

Will groans as he drags Santiago closer to him, deft hands slipping off of the belt and up under the blue button-down that Will once owned but has now made peace with losing to his lover. His fingers ghost over tan skin and Will smirks into the kiss, biting gently at Santiago’s lower lip at the same time he starts drawing gentle circles with callused fingertips against the small strip of skin that always seems to show when Santiago attaches his sidearm. 

“W-Will-” Santiago breaks the kiss with a gasp, dark eyes blown black and lips red as he pulls back, but Will doesn't let him go far, just presses Santiago back against the railing and grins widely; makes him gasp again and again. 

\----

**bringing up the hands to cup the other person’s face while kissing (also with kissing tears away)**

The funeral is long. Too long for Santiago. But it’s the least he can do he thinks; to stand there on aching knees in the pouring rain as the crowd disperses into the church to mourn where it’s dry. 

However Santiago makes no move to follow, his gaze centred on the fresh hole in the ground, where the winches are pulled back by workers of the church leaving the coffin in the ground and Santiago feels a part of his heart stay with it. Stares at the empty space where a headstone will go that says ‘Husband. Father. Soldier.’

Fuck, how had he let this happen. How had he-

The rain overhead suddenly stops and it takes Santiago a moment, a moment too long his instincts cry, to register the suited figure moving to stand before him, blocking his view of the grave with a familiar set of beautiful broad shoulders.

Will.

Rain splatters against the umbrella Will is holding over them and the taller man sighs so heavily Santiago can feel it in his bones. Can feel it add weight to his own trembling frame, already so heavy that he can barely lift his head to meet Will’s eyes. 

It doesn’t seem to matter though, Will sets the umbrella on his shoulder and carefully lifts his arms to cup Santiago’s face in his hands. The mans skin is chilled and Will runs his thumb under those dark eyes, slowly tilting the older mans head back until their eyes lock together.

“Pope.”

“C-can you not...” Santiago grits out, teeth chattering from the cold rain. From the way the warmth of Will’s palm sinks into him. His eyes slip closed against a new heat, the burning, salty and wet kind that gather in his eyes and slip down his already damp cheeks. “I-I’m...”

“I know,” Will whispers softly, leaning forward to drop his forehead against Santiagos. “I know.”

“I know.” Santiago repeats. Words sounding far calmer than he feels they have any right to, but with Will before him, with his hands wiping away his tears, it’s almost easy to sink into the blond’s hold and let the guilt flow away with the rain. Santiago opens his eyes slowly, soft gaze taking in Wills face as he steps past that last inch of space between them.

Santiago leans upwards, rain slick lips landing on the single streak of dampness on Will’s face and he kisses it gone before it can slip away. 

Will lets out a shaky breath and uses his grip on the face between his hands to haul Santiago into a proper kiss. He feels Pope raise his own arms, settling his hands on either side of his beard and Will lets himself fall into the drugging heat of a selfishness that they’d put off for too long. Let’s the umbrella slip from his arms and pays no heed to the rain falling on them as he does his level best to lose himself in the kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the wonderful @mssr-cellophane on tumblr!! Thank you for all of your support, I honestly can not tell you what it means to me!!

**height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes**

“I really gotta wonder why you keep scheduling’ early mornings for these talks of yours.” 

Will looks away from where he’s sitting on the bench by the entry way, bent over and lacing up his boots and smiles up at the sleep rumpled Santiago who’s leaning against the doorway in nothing but his boxers. He sends the other man an appreciative glance, taking in the expanse of golden skin that almost seems to glow in the early morning light filtering in through the balcony door. “Did I wake you?”

“No, the bed’s empty,” Santiago complains shaking his head, salt and pepper curls that he’s been letting grow out lately flopping back and forth and into his eyes. The soldier brushes it off his face before narrowing his eyes and moving to stand in front of Will who slowly gets to his feet with a grin, thick boots making a heavy thunk on the vinyl floor. 

The taller man quirks a corner of his lip up even as he pulls the shorter man in close to him. 

Santiago goes easily, too sleepy to do more than growl lowly. “You do this on purpose don’t you?” He glares down at the floor, at his bare feet and Will’s boots that only add to the several inches of difference between the two of them. 

Will’s smirk only depends, mirth shining in his blue eyes as he runs his fingers over his boyfriends bare shoulders, raising goose bumps in his wake as Will ghosts his touch downwards, lets his finger linger and loop around Santiago’s wrists. “Do what.”

Deep brown eyes roll towards the ceiling before falling back down to Will’s face that is, as always, just that little bit out of reach. But now, with his boots on, Will’s mouth is even farther away from him; and Santiago knows that Will knows this. Has no doubt that the blond adds to that difference every chance he gets just to mess with their early morning goodbye kisses.

“You’re such an asshole. Looming like that.” 

Because Will has stated before that he loves it when Santiago has to strain up to kiss him. When Santiago has to stand on the tips of his toes in order to reach him and Will always ends up wrapping his arms around the dark haired mans waist to steady him. Holds him all the tighter when Will leans down to set their mouths together in a way that’s become all too natural in the past year.

“Love you too.” Will muses as they part. Makes a show of bending down even further to nuzzle along Santiagos cheek, scraping along the stubble and relishing in the easy teasing between them. The proverbial tugging at their loved ones pig tails. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re going to be late.” Santiago laughs pulling Will down one last time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoorah! I love this exercise! Screw running, I'm letting my imagination do all of that shit.

**being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward**

Will would never admit to the thought of kissing his team mates. He knows full well that that way lies bruises and broken bones and a dishonourable discharge if the wrong people should ever found out. 

But it doesn’t stop him from watching them when he feels it’s safe to. Doesn’t stop his blue eyes from glancing over the bottle of beer he’s pressing to his lips and following Frankie, with his easy demeanour and kind eyes; can’t help the way he admires Redfly’s shoulders as the man bids them farewell and meets his brothers amused gaze, as Benny leads their staggering Captain to his truck out front.

When he turns back to the table, Frankie is gone, and a quick search for him places their pilot at the bar with a red head and Will can only chuckle. The laughter fades abruptly however, when he looks back, and there’s Santiago, ascetic brown eyes regarding him attentively. 

“Let’s go for a smoke.” Pope says and Will can’t help but go.

And if he is unable to keep from watching the shift of muscle under Pope’s shirt, can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the cigarette the shorter man presses to his lips as they step out into the cold night air and the empty street. That’s his business.

Will leans back against the exterior and watches; let’s his blue eyes follow a curl of smoke as Pope exhales. “Gonna share?”

He’s not sure if he’s talking about the cigarette, or the suddenly hungry look in his teammates eyes that Will is finally permitted to see. 

“You know, you may know numbers,” Santiago smirks then, stepping close enough to him to pin Will to the wall with his own body. “But you stay in this game long enough, you learn peoples eyes. You learn to see what they see.” 

Will cocks his head to the side, assessing the shorter man before giving him a wry grin. “And what do my eyes say about me then?”

“That you could be dangerous for me.” Santiago whispers back, keen dark eyes trailing over the others face before finally landing on Wills lips. The moment holds between them, echoing the split second on the side of a cliff in the middle of a desert. When the target is in the crosshairs and Will gives himself a spilt second before ordering the pull of the trigger.

But he’s not there, and Will isn’t sure which one of them moves first. Barely registers Santiago dropping the cigarette to the ground as his hand slides into the short hairs at the back of Will’s neck; and then they’re kissing.

It’s as exhilarating as being shot at and yet as soft and yielding as a rose petal brushing against his fingers. 

Will breaks apart first, breath short and clouding between them and he has to take a moment, overwhelmed. When he finally does open his eyes, he see’s Santiagos are still pressed tight. 

“Dangerous?”

“Oh yea, very dangerous.”

\----

**lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up**

“R’m-m’nd me to kill yer br’ther...” 

Santiago is not awake. Is not even close to wholly conscious but he's long since mastered the art of being half asleep, half drugged or half concussed and still managing to let out scathing threats. It’s his favourite skill; right after his amazing aim and the rather new found ability to make Will let out all sorts of fun sounds.

His back screams in protest to a night spent on Benny’s couch, lumpy cushions and a pillow with even less stuffing in it than it did three years ago have left Santiago curled on on his side, pressed as close as he can get to the Miller brother he doesn’t want to end for the sole reason Will wasn’t the one who said ‘lets go back to my place for a drink’.

“I may let you...” Will mutters, voice thick in a way that lets his accent shine though. He presses his throbbing head against Santiago’s where the other man is crammed into the crease of his neck and shoulder; where it’s dark and quiet and warm. Needy asshole, Will thinks without bothering to open his eyes. 

Neither of them move and Will can almost feel himself start to drift back off to sleep, hangover ready to knock him back into blissful unconsciousness, but is rudely interrupted when he feels a pair of dry lips catch on the skin just under his jaw. He ignores it the first time, but when that familiar notorious mouth continues, Will raises a heavy hand to greying curls and pushes lightly. “Whaddyoudoin’...”

Santiago hums under his breath, smiles into the crook of Will’s neck and keeps following the familiar path of skin up his bearded cheek. The kisses are light, just easy presses of lips and Santiago lets himself soak up the warmth Will’s always managed to exude. 

Will sinks into the caress, lets Santiago shift blindly next to him, and Will knows the other mans eyes are still closed. Has seen Santiago enough in the mornings, been lucky enough to be privy to the fact that this well worn soldier in his arms, is nothing more than a hapless idiot with terrible coordination when he’s half asleep and safe.

“We should get up...” Will mutters finally, just as Santiagos fingers slip under the hem of his shirt and his lips trace along his cheek bone.

The noise of distaste Santiago makes leaves Will laughing. “I think thats a terrible idea.” The older man replies, and as if to prove his point, Santiago slings a leg over Will’s hip and tightens his grip on the blonds t-shirt. “Immnotmovin’”

Will’s never been one for the ‘if you can’t beat them join them’ idea, but now, here on the couch, he just tightens his grip on the other mans waist and shifts in one easy movement until Santiago is draped over his chest instead of the lumpy couch. His eyes are still closed as he kisses his forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boys, meet Gin... it's my new best friend! *evil laughter*

**when they lean forward a fraction as if to kiss the other person, then realize they shouldn’t and pull back to stop themselves  
and  
ripping the other away - “no we shouldn’t” - but when they kiss them again they moan and hold them close **

\--

It’s Will and Santiago, fresh off a mission in which they took out the base of operations of a local group that had been known to test weapons on their own people. It’s arid around them and they're tired; running on adrenaline and small touches. Calloused hands and gentle fingertips reaching out more than they normally would, because right now, it’s just the two of them. No Redfly, no Benny, no Fish... just them...

Together, surrounded by oppressive heat and Will can’t look away from the way Pope’s hair is curling around his ears as they check in, and Will can’t help adjusting his scarf, loosening it around his neck. He can feel the way Santiago’s eyes linger afterwards, following the line of his throat the moment he tips the bottle of water back.

It’s a familiar routine. 

It’s a game of chicken.

It’s something they’ve been dancing about for years now; sidelong glances hidden by soft sarcasm and glancing eyes. The looks that can mean so much in the few seconds their eyes meet. It’s a smirk of the lips when they manage time alone, when they pull away, just the two of them to stand together, shoulders pressed against one another and they just soak in the presence of the other. 

They’re stolen moments at best. Nothing close to what they want, but what they have to live with. 

Except for now. 

Now it’s just them. Just a room in a town they can’t pronounce and Santiago huffs a laugh as they climb the stairs, sliding the old fashioned key into the lock and he lets his eyes sweep over the room for traps before stepping back and letting Will in. 

Ironhead rolls his eyes and claps him on the side, fingers trailing like they’re want to do until he gets far enough away to drop his bag onto the bed. 

There’s blue everywhere, Santiago notes, light blue on the walls, the mosaic tile leading into the bathroom. The bed sheets ivory, azure thread laced in patterns Santiago can’t follow as he finally turns away from the decor...

And into the stunning blue of Ironheads eyes. Santiago feels his breath catch, feels it stutter and start in his chest as his feet start forward, completely out of his control.

Will smirks, and it’s those daring eyes that draw Santiago in. He can’t help but step up as close to Will as he’s ever gotten and then there’s nothing else. 

Just them. 

Just them and the distance they’ve ben trying to keep in broken silences and hearts hidden under the familiar words of don’t ask, don’t tell. 

So they don’t. They don’t ask each other and they don’t tell the others. 

At least until now. Now it feels like it’s all come to a head. Here in this place, in this hotel room, far from the prying eyes of their superiors. 

Santiago reaches up, runs his fingers along the vee of will’s scarf, tugs at it until the knot falls away and the shorter man lets his brown eyes trail up the slip of skin that’s revealed when it falls away. 

“Pope.” Will voice is rough, in the way of held back emotion and dry desert air. 

It only takes a step for Santiago to close the few inches they’ve aways kept. It’s daring, being this close. It’s a push, Will realizes, past the stalement they’ve been keeping themselves in and his hands reach up to his friends shoulders. 

“Pope, we can’t.” Will whispers, head tilting forward, drawn; the way he can’t help but lean down to the dark haired man. Pulled in by a gravity he’s tired of fighting.

But Santiago doesn’t stop, slides the scarf away from pale, sunburnt skin until they’re chest to chest; each breath pressing them closer, inhaling and exhaling in a tandem dance where neither of them is sure who’s leading.

Santiago pulls him close, strong fingers laced through the short hair at the nape of Will’s neck and he guides the other towards him, pulled infinitely closer until there’s nothing but each other. 

It feels like inevitability when they touch. And Will doesn’t fight it, sinks into it, gets lost in it. In the touch and the heat, in the sticky, wet slide of lips and tongues falling into place like this is where they’ve always supposed to have been.

Will groans, heat sweeping through him and his fingers find soft strands, Santiago gasping against him, a perfect sensation. A thrill if there ever was one, and the blond can’t help shifting, drawing Pope even further to him until his senses jumpstart and Will rips himself away. 

Santiago’s brown eyes are burning in the bright light of midday sun streaming in through the open window and Will can hear nothing but his heart pounding in his ears. 

“P-Pope... we-” Will gasps, blue eyes sliding closed as he struggles with the taste of everything he’s wanted. Digs his fingertips so hard into Santiago’s shoulders he’l be surprised if the shorter man doesn’t bruise. “We shouldn’t.” 

Because if Will knows himself he soon won’t be able to stop at all.

A rough palm at Will’s cheek and Santiago brushes at the soft beard under his skin, feels his heart twist at the longing in the other mans voice. He tilts Will’s head back up, until their eyes meet and Santiago feels the way Will just... _gives_.

It’s almost nothing for Santiago to turn them, so the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and Santiago grins at the free-fall before his back hits the bed.  
Will can do nothing but follow him down, amazes at the way the white and blue sheets frame the dark hair under him. 

It’s a pull like nothing else and Will won’t fight it anymore; cups the back of Santiago head and they find each other again. Will moans at the feeling, hears Pope echo it and it feels like everything he wants.


	5. Chapter 5

**3: 4 cheek kisses**  
\--

The scarf is...large.

Overly large really, and Will looks up from the bag Benny had thrown at his head with a gleeful ‘Happy Birthday bro’ to stare at his brother with curious blue eyes. 

Benny grins back at him popping a cap off a beer bottle. “Don’t front, you love it.”

Will shakes his head and takes the oversized, red and black plaid, wool scarf out of the bag. It’s soft to the touch and he wraps it around his neck, pushing it down so it no longer covers his mouth. “They didn’t have anything smaller?”

“They did,” Benny muses, flicking one of the cut tassels on the end of the scarf. “But this one will keep you from bitching next time a gust of wind hits you and your little delicate ass wants to complain about it being cold in the middle of May.”

“Shithead.” Will shoots back, ruffling Benny’s hair before adjusting the fabric around him, because as annoying as his brothers words may be, they’re not wrong. Will’s never had any love of the cold, has never run warm in his entire life, save for whenever they’ve have to run across the hot desert sand in the middle of the day. Their laughter floats around the kitchen and Will leaves the scarf on for the rest of the night.

Will loses the scarf the day his fiancé leaves, it’s not the first thing of his she had taken, although it appears to be the last; and when winter hits that year, it’s not the warm body next to him that Will misses so much.

It’s the warm red and black wool that used to cover the back of his neck against the chill.

\--

After Santiago moves in, Will wonders how often they’re going to have to fight over the thermostat, and the blond both marvels at doing such a mundane _normal_ thing, but also dreads it. He keeps the apartment at a balmy 72.5 degrees as soon as the temperature starts dipping in September and Will is not looking forward to having to go back to wearing sweaters inside.

Only, there’s no arguing. Theres no sweaters.

Will looks at the thermostat with a keen eye one afternoon; 74 Degrees flashes back to him. He hums under his breath and pokes his head into the living room where Santiago is curled up on the couch, long sleeve shirt on and legs crossed under one of the pillows that had come with the couch they bought, book laid open on top of it, and a steaming mug of coffee on the table next to him. 

Is it possible Pope is just as intolerant of the cold than Will himself is?

He’s probably just not saying anything about it, Will thinks and drops the thermostat down a few degrees for his boyfriends sake. Will doesn’t notice when it goes back up by the end of the night, just takes his sweater off after dinner and doesn’t put it back on.

The next day is windy and cloudy, and Will’s waiting for Santiago to get back from town so they can head over to Frankies together, only to look up when he hears Pope burst through the front door with a muttered ‘Fuck’ and the loud rustle of a paper bag.

Will gets to his feet just as Santiago waltzes into the kitchen, eyes crinkled in displeasure and- the blond raises an eyebrow, taking in the soft looking wool in a deep olive green colour, now wrapped snugly around the shorter mans neck. Pope’s almost swimming in it with how much extra fabric there is. “You bought a scarf?” He asks. 

Santiago huffs and zips up his black leather jacket a bit more, until it’s almost gotten said scarf caught in the teeth. “It’s fucking freezing out.”

“It’s 55F out.” Will muses, like he himself isn’t wrapped up in a t-shirt, button-down and a sweater, all ready to put his jacket on over top of them. 

“I’ve spent the last three years in the fucking tropical zone,” Santiago mutters as he attempts to put his cold fingers against the side of his boyfriends neck. He grins when Ironhead all but physically pushes back to keep him away. “I can take the cold about as well as you now.”

That seems like a fair point, Will thinks, then narrows his eyes a moment later. His retort is cut off when Pope pushes the paper bag hanging from his wrist into the taller mans arms. 

“Got you one too.” Santiago grins. “They’re stupid soft man, you’re gonna love it.”

Santiago...bought him a scarf? Will lets that simmer in the back of his mind for a moment as he takes the tissue wrapped scarf out of the bag. 

It’s soft. Soft and oversized and Will feels a pang of familiarity hit him so solidly its like walking into a wall. The scarf is almost the exact same as the one Benny had given him, only instead of red and black plaid, this one is a solid navy blue. 

Santiago is still talking when Will tunes back into him and away from his present, saying something about the small shop in town that set up in some market or other, and frankly Will doesn’t care. He just wraps the scarf around his neck and tucks the little tassel ends under his t-shirt. With every ounce of gratefulness in his voice, he looks down into dark brown eyes and whisper a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

“Yea, well, you turn the thermostat down again and I'll kill you myself.” Pope grumbles into his scarf, trying to hide the blush crawling up his neck. 

Will can’t help but to reach out then, adjusting the sides of his boyfriends jacket and folding the fabric of the olive green scarf in such a way that insures there no gaps for the wind to slip down. “Noted.” the blond laughs, pressing the softest kiss he can to Santiago’s cheek.

However it’s not as soft as the wool wrapped firmly in place around his now warm neck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a happy class J!

**3-7•when someone kisses the other person’s hand(s)**

\--

“You look like shit.” 

Will doesn’t bother opening his eyes, he knows that teasing voice and the amusement laced through it so well these days. Although he never ceases to be amazed by the tone.

“Told you not to try and keep up with your brother.” Pope chuckles and Will listens as his voice gets closer. It’s only when he hears the tell-tale clink of a ring hitting the edge of the tube does Ironhead even bother to crack open an eyelid. 

Sure enough, Santiago is now perched on the edge of the tub next to him and poking a finger into the ice bath Will gladly submerged himself in when he got home. “I take it training with your brother went well then?” The dark haired man muses as he eyes the forming bruises along the broad torso below the water line with a sharp gaze. 

“Went fine.” Will grumbles back, groaning as he pushes himself to be further upright, the ice cubes splashing against the old acrylic tub. All of his muscles ache. Although he has no one to blame for it but himself, because he was the one who looked at Benny and decided it was a good idea to make sure that he himself hadn’t gotten too out of shape. 

Domestic life and everything. He blames Santiago actually knowing how to cook.

“You really need to start remembering that your brothers’ built like a goddamn brick shit-house.” Santiago chuckles, splashing a bit of the bath water towards the blonds face. “You’re not a spring chicken anymore, retirements hit you too hard.”

“Didn't hear any complaints last night.” Will snorts.

Well, no, Santiago thinks with amusement, he was too busy biting into the pillow to keep from screaming to even think about voicing a complaint. It’s just that he likes the hint of softness Ironheads developed in the past year or so and hates the thought of Will going back to the hard edged warrior he used to be. 

Pope sighs instead, doing his best to hook Ironheads fingers to his without touching the water and Santiago is his own sort of careful as he lifts Wills hand out of the water, eyeing the redness now colouring pale knuckles. It’s not bad, but the hint of damage still rankles him. His own thumb brushes across the fresh bruises and Santiago can’t help but lift Will’s hand to his lips, surrendering a soft kiss to each of the battered knuckles. “Just be a little more careful alright?”

Will rolls his eyes at him, twists his wrist suddenly and pulls, until it’s only the barest hint of strength he’s using to hold his boyfriend up and over the ice cold water. 

Pope levels him with a cold stare that would look a lot more dangerous if he wasn’t clinging onto Will’s arm like a scared cat with claws. “Do it and you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Ironhead would never admit he's tempted, pulls him into a kiss instead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! This got away from me in a major way... but it fulfilled the need of some winter fluff. 500 words turned into 1300 because my dearest friendo gave me two hella awesome prompts and my lizard brain couldn't decide between the two.
> 
> MAJOR FLUFF AHEAD! ALSO: mentions ptsd around July 4th

**3-7•when someone kisses the other person’s hand(s) Part 2**

\--

A week after Will and Santiago come home with the money they make a joint decision.

They’re going to live, they’re going to live and spend money like they’re dying and do every sort of everyday thing, mundane and exciting, that normal people who haven’t seen war, death and blood do. 

For a whole year. 

Will rents a cabin that Spring, and Santiago buys a six pack, puts his feet up on the edge of the canoe and watches Ironhead fish. Everything he catches Will lets go and Santiago carefully leans over, catches the blond up in a kiss that tastes of beer and cool lake evenings.

They go to Vegas for two days, stargazing and don’t spend a dime more than the food they eat and the gas to get them out into the desert.

During the summer Santiago drags them to every music festival he can find, jazz and metal alike, and Will invests in the best pair of noise canceling headphones money can buy. He barely uses them though and Pope only gets one black eye from a mosh pit he wades into after giving Will a kiss on the cheek for luck. 

Will finds a small town carnival and pulls the truck over with a wide grin. He fills a reusable bag full of cotton candy as Pope watches him in shock and dawning horror over his corndog. Neither of them ride anything other than the Ferris wheel though, despite the rather eager look Santiago gives the graviton that makes Will’s hair stand on end.

Theres a convention in August for Tattoo Arts and Santiago surprises Will with both tickets and a voucher for the artist Will’s been following with wistful eyes. Will’s grin when he sits in the chair is unmatched to anything Pope’s ever seen, and it doesn’t fade even when his skin starts bleeding as the artist adds another ink-torn line to the skull and gravestone on Will’s right arm. Santiago wants to ask, but doesn’t.

Ironhead likes his sleep, but after seeing the smile and tasting the new recipe Santiago comes home with after going to a local farmer market alone, he gets up every proceeding Saturday morning to makes the trek with Pope through stalls and pop-ups. It smells fantastic even if it is loud and full of running kids and people who wear too much plaid. Santiago purses his lips and doesn’t say anything, just pinches the sleeve of Will’s own plaid between his fingers and tugs the blond away towards the seasonal vegetables. 

Parades were Catfish’s idea, well, his children idea and while neither of them really like crowds, they’re trying to be normal. So they hit up the St Patricks Day parade in Chicago, which, (okay, they’d both be lying if they said they didn’t like that one) and Mardi Gras was fun despite the fact they’re both in bed by ten; purple, green and pink beads shifting around Will’s bare neck.

They skip July 4th altogether. They get a hotel in Montreal to avoid the worst of the fireworks and gunshots that echo through the streets while people celebrate. Neither of them flinch with reminders or feel the pull of old memories that lay like a scratchy film over their past. They get sandwiches instead; because they know what they’ve done in the name of the people in their country 

Minnesota, Santiago grumbles, is actually his own idea and he curses himself for every frozen moment of it. The Christmas holidays have come and gone with much more fanfare than normal, and more food than Pope’s ever had the opportunity to cook at once. But when all was said and done, Will had looked at him and asked if he wanted a small get away, just the two of them, and so Santiago had looked, had picked the only Winter Festival he could find that originated out of spite. It’s only now, as he stands among the many onlookers, shivering in his oversized jacket while waiting for the parade to start and waiting for Will to come back from where ever he had run off too, that he regrets picking somewhere so cold. 

Pope rubs his hands together, trying to get the blood back to his fingers that are frozen despite the gloves he has on. They’re as stiff as his knees in this weather, and frankly Santiago would like nothing better right now than to be curled up with Will in their hotel room, under a stupid amount of blankets. 

Alas, he’s not going to be the one to pull Will away from this, because despite the amount of people here, all Pope has to do is remember the joy dancing in beautiful blue eyes when Will had looked upon the snowman competition and he happily resigns himself to sore joints tomorrow. 

It’s a small price to pay.

The feel of the crowds parting behind him draws Santiagos attention and he immediately knows who it is. “There you are. Where’d you go-”

Blue eyes crinkle in the dusk light as Will comes up on his left, looking wind blown, cheeks red from the cold and large, navy blue scarf tucked around his neck. He’s holding a small paper cup and immediately pressed it into Santiago’s hands. 

The heat is immediate and Pope can’t help groaning at the feel of it. His gloves are just enough of a buffer to keep from burning himself where the blood has already run out of his hands and Santiago gets the waft of the weak, watered-down hot chocolate they were selling by the front entrance.

“Better?” Will chuckles and Santi want’s to kiss him so badly that he removes one of his hands from the paper cup so he step closer to the taller man without splashing him with hot liquid, and Pope tilts up until he can get a fist in Wills scarf, pulling him down into a kiss.

“We’ll go soon,” Will promises when they part, breath clouding between them and he takes hold of Santiago’s hand that has just let go of his scarf. He presses the dark haired mans cold fingers to his cheek, then to his lips before blowing body warm air over them. Holds the stiff hand carefully between his own until Pope feels some of his creaky joints begin to loosen.

“Thanks.” Pope grins, savouring the heat permeating the chill that had settled into his bones. 

“Anytime.” It’s a promise and more because Will knows Santiago isn’t just talking about the hot chocolate; and Will can’t help himself, tugs the glove down to press a warm kiss to the bared skin on the back of Pope’s wrist. He pulls the fabric again and his kiss is more of a smile as he follows the fine bones he uncovers, until finally Will is slipping Santiago’s glove into his pocket and holding his palm to his lips.

It makes a heat bloom in Pope, only this time it’s not just in his hands.

The look Will gives him in reply is knowing and the blond lays one last kiss to Santiago’s thumb before wrapping the mans bare fingers back around the hot chocolate; moves to pull Pope into the circle of his arms and sets his hands over Santiago’s on the paper cup.

Santiago can’t help his stupid grin, dark eyes sparkling with the slow moving lights of the Winter parade moving ever nearer them. Wiggles his still gloved hand free of the cup and holds it up to Will and despite the crowd around them, despite the night air that’s only getting colder, Ironhead reaches up to pull the second glove away with a smile.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an ot3 chapter! WHO KNEW!! Mssrj inspired this one when I was jabbering on about wether Will/Santi/Yovanna or Yovanna/Benny had more clout last night. 
> 
> So I couldn't help adding another ot3 to my group.

**shoulder kisses**

Will wakes slowly and all his half asleep brain can think of, is how warm he is. He groans, tries to shift, to stretch, but is immediately blocked by the two sources of said heat on either side of him. Boxing him in in the best sort of way.

Blue eyes blink open and Will smirks, curls his arm tighter around the muscled chest laying flush against him. Santiago groans into the pillow, but doesn’t wake, merely just burrows a little further into Will’s chest and snuffles as he settles back down. Will’s smirk turns soft, lets Santiago alone and lifts the hand the other man isn’t laying on, up to stroke along the smooth skin of the arm draped over his ribs.

There’s a mumble behind him and Will chuckles quietly when an equally smooth leg gets tossed over the blankets covering his knees, keeping him all but pinned to the bed. Yovanna grumbles, dragging her thumb across the bare skin of his stomach. “S`early... goback` sleep.”

“Too warm.” Will huffs, his breath ghosting over the dark curls tucked under his chin and attempts to glance at the woman pressed against his back. He can’t see more than a mess of dark tangled hair over his shoulder instead just lets his head flop back down onto the pillow.

Yovanna grunts noncommittally but doesn’t move. 

He really should have expected that. Yet really, what Will hadn’t expected in the slightest; was actually waking up in the middle. Normally both of his lovers favour that spot, Yovanna or Santiago more than happy to be wedged in-between the other two. Will however, Will likes being on the outside. Likes sleeping closest to the door, just in case. So to wake up with Yovanna clinging to his back like an eel, to have Pope plastered to his chest like he is now— is rare.

It’s nice too, Will thinks to himself. He brushes a hand through Santiagos’ hair, attempting to tame a few of the more wayward curls sticking up. Wonders if he could even fall back asleep like this. Maybe not though, Ironhead adds, raising an eyebrow as he feels himself begin to tip backwards.

Yovanna tugs on him again, harder this time and he makes sure to grab Santiago’s arm as she does so. Will sees what she wants and makes sure to keep his grip on the other man as he falls over onto his back. She slides up against his side when he’s down, their legs even more of a tangle now and Yovanna chuckles when she sees the half asleep death grip Pope has on their boyfriend. 

“Why’re we movin`?” the shorter man growls out, words pressed into an slur against Will’s chest. 

“Because you’re being a hog.” Yovanna says, dropping her own head down onto the little space on Will’s chest that Santiago isn’t taking up.

“`uckoff…” Santiago grumbles.

Will rolls his eyes at his two lovers who are now pinning him to the bed. All hope of getting up, now gone. “Be nice you two.” He sighs, shuffling as much as he can in order to get comfortable. Only has to look down a moment later when he feels a kiss being placed on each of his shoulders.

Santiago is grinning up at him blearily, crows feet pulling around his sleepy eyes as he lets his lips linger against Will’s left shoulder. Yovanna too, looking much more awake than their counterpart, laying soft kisses against his right side and looking up at him. 

Blue eyes roll towards the ceiling before slipping closed. He knows those faces. “You two are gonna be the death of me.” Will mutters. 

“Are you complaining?” Yovanna chuckles and Ironhead feels her shift to prop herself up over him.

“Better not be.” Santiago chimes in and Will doesn’t have the strength to not to open his eyes when he feels him sit up as well. “We promise to make it a good death.”

Will laughs as they both lean in.

**Author's Note:**

> Two for now... maybe more to come later... :D


End file.
